


Observations of a Labor Nurse

by jugglequeen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Baby Fic, F/M, Post Season 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-04-30 16:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14501358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jugglequeen/pseuds/jugglequeen
Summary: A labor nurse tells us about her day in the delivery room.





	1. Chapter 1

I've been a labor nurse for more than 30 years. I don’t know how many babies I've helped into this world, but I've seen my share of miracles and, fortunately to a lesser degree, tragedies in the delivery room. What I've been a witness to today is unparalleled though. I'm sitting in the locker room, already changed into my regular clothes after a long double shift, but I'm not ready to leave yet. My working day has been remarkable and it's running in front of my mind's eye once again on its own accord. 

This early morning, at 4 a.m., a couple came in. She was obviously in labor, he obviously very nervous. So far, so familiar. The woman, a small redhead, let out a painful groan urging the man to utter the more than superfluous remark, "my wife is having a baby." This also was very familiar. It happens all the time that men turn into complete messes as soon as their wives have the first contraction. In this case, though, I sensed something other than the mere nervousness about the imminent delivery of a baby. I would find out later some of what this couple had been through until they made it to this point of their lives.

I ushered them into one of the examination rooms, made the woman prop her lower arms on the wall and relax her back. I pushed one of the trigger points in her lower back and she sighed in relief. Once the contraction was over, she turned around and smiled at me. "Jesus, that was a strong one. Thank you, that was very helpful," she uttered breathlessly.

"My name is Rose," I told her, "I am the labor nurse on call and will guide you through this. Together we will deliver your baby safely."

"My name is Dana Scully and this is Fox Mulder," she introduced themselves. And then I noticed it. Her age. She was past the usual age range I see in the delivery room. Not that I hadn't had mothers past 50, quite a few actually. It happens time and again that women believe once they hit perimenopause they don't have to care for birth control anymore and then they are utterly surprised, shocked mostly, when they find out they are pregnant at an age they rather think of having grandchildren than another baby of their own. 

She handed me her maternity log and there it was recorded: she was 54. She looked younger, I would've put her in her early fifties, maybe even late forties. Her good physical condition helped her later on when it got really tough. An amniocentesis had been done at week 20, a common procedure for high-risk pregnancies such as hers. It hadn't shown any abnormalities. The frequent ultrasound scans were also recorded NAD. Her blood pressure had been a bit high during the last trimester, the iron content in her blood a bit low, but other than that, it had been a complication-free pregnancy.

"You're a medical doctor?" I asked when I saw what was written down as her profession.

"Pathologist," she winced as another contraction hit her. Her husband, who had been standing silently in the corner holding on to a duffel bag, dropped it unceremoniously and was at her side in the blink of an eye.

"Already another one, Scully?" he asked, trying but failing to keep his concern for her at bay. 

"I'm fine, Mulder," she hissed between two deep inhales to breathe the pain away.

They called each other by their last names, one more interesting feature to add to the list. I should learn some more during the following hours, many more hours. I would work way past my scheduled shift because I didn't have the heart to leave them to another labor nurse in the middle of a delivery which had become prolonged and difficult at a certain point.

After a gynecologist had taken a look at her, she was still in the first dilation phase, the cervix dilated to three centimeters, I got them settled into our nicest room. After a series of strong contractions in quick succession labor slowed down significantly. At some point, I offered an ecbolic IV or an epidural which also sometimes helps initiate dilation, but she refused resolutely. "I want it as natural as possible. No medical intervention, only if it's for the baby. My body has been manipulated enough, I don’t want to be injected with anything I don't really need," she supplied. 

"This might take a long time, Dana. You might be running on empty at some point if we don't accelerate labor a bit." 

I had her age in mind and expected her to deteriorate quite quickly, but she would prove me wrong. She was an impressively hardy woman. She showed a high tolerance for pain and breathed herself through one contraction after another. Her husband with the peculiar first name, Fox, who didn't know what to do with himself when they first came in and was of no use, came to be a great help to her once he had settled himself behind her. He coached her through her breathing technique, they had obviously been to Lamaze class together, he uplifted her mood when she was about to lose her strength and determination, he massaged her back and dabbed her sweaty forehead with a cooling cloth. 

They were a perfect team. I'd never seen anything like it before. I was used to women yelling at their husbands to leave them alone, to husbands not knowing what to do to help their wives, a pair so much in sync mesmerized me. Fox seemed to know exactly what Dana needed at each and every point in time. He either cheered her on or calmed her, he told her she was strong or to lean on him. He knew when to keep quiet or when to distract her with one of his weird stories. He even engaged her in banter at one point. I expected her to go wild, women in labor are usually not really susceptible to joking, but she just threw a witty remark back at him and a funny chit-chat arose between them which was quite entertaining, to be honest. I even had to suppress a laugh when she returned one of his quips with telling him her older brother had ample resources as a Navy officer to make him pay for knocking up his baby sister.

Dana was in such good hands, she didn't need me around all the time. So I left them alone but checked on them regularly. I had a look at the fetal monitor, listened to the baby's heartbeat, evaluated the progress of labor and Dana's physical condition. Everything was going well, albeit slowly. But slow didn't necessarily mean bad, so if she didn't want any medical relief, she wouldn't have to accept any. Then labor slowed down even more to a point where Dana didn't have any contractions for extended periods of time. When I popped my head into the room once again to offer oxytocics, exhaustion had taken its toll on her and she had fallen asleep with her back leaned against Fox's chest. He was gently stroking her damp hair with one hand, the other rested on her protruding belly, his fingers splayed out as if he wanted to protect the baby inside. For a man in his late-fifties, he was also very persistent. He had been slouched behind her for many hours now, his back must've ached terribly, his legs had to be asleep. I told him to take a break himself, to have a coffee at the cafeteria maybe, I would call for him as soon as she woke up, but he rejected out of hand. 

"I'm not leaving her alone, Rose," he told me, "not for a second. I missed the delivery of our first child, you have to know. I owe her."

That was how I learned that they had a son named William who had just turned 18. I instantly knew something was wrong. The way Fox spoke about him, the way he pulled sleeping Dana a little closer let me surmise the boy wasn't waiting for them to bring home a new baby brother or sister. As much as I had become curious, I also noticed this man badly needed some caffeine, so I left it at that until I came back with two mugs of hot, strong, black coffee from the machine in the nurses' lounge. When I handed him his, I asked, "where is your son now?" 

"We lost him. We lost him before he turned one," he answered flatly and confirmed my foreboding assumptions. He told me how they believed they couldn't have children, that Dana had been told she was barren. Her pregnancy had been a miracle, especially after an unsuccessful attempt at IVF. He didn't elaborate on what they lost him to; an illness, an accident, or if anything, a crime. It doesn’t matter anyway. Losing a child is the most brutal thing parents can experience in their lives. I happen to know first-hand. 

"I'm sorry for your loss," I said to him. "I know what it feels like to lose a son. Mine was killed in a car accident. He had just gotten his license and was too fast on a slippery road. It happened 8 years ago and I still miss him every single day."

Fox looked at me, his eyes compassionate, and nodded. He understood, knew exactly what I meant. I sensed their story was different, that there was more to it than the mere loss. Why had he missed his son's birth? Why wouldn't he let go of Dana if only for ten minutes to grab himself something to drink? Why wouldn't Dana grant herself the relief medical technology offered her? He didn't want to talk about it and I didn't pry any further, it wasn't my business anyway. "Have you tried for another baby since then?" I asked instead.

"Well, we never really talked about having another one. The hole William left behind was so big, the wound so painful. Plus we had a lot of other things to deal with."

Fox spoke of how after years of being on the move they had finally settled down in hopes that the steadier lifestyle would make it easier to cope with the loss of their son, but that exactly the opposite had happened. That they had even been separated temporarily but had remained friends and work colleagues. The man was emotionally so on edge, I doubted he realized he was saying all of this aloud, but as the physician-patient-privilege also applies to labor nurses, I let him talk because I thought it was doing him good. So I also learned that they had only gotten back to an intimate relationship shortly before she had conceived the baby we were now waiting to come into this world. 

"We never thought we would be granted a second miracle. An even bigger one. I mean at our age. Honestly, who thinks of propagation while making love in their fifties...mid to late fifties? I suppose we will be the oldest parents at the playground. People will mistake us for the kid's grandparents, for sure." He chuckled slightly and broke the spell of sadness with it. Fortunately so, I must say, as we were expecting something wonderful to happen which was the arrival of another one of God's creatures. 

As if on cue, Dana stirred and instantly moaned. Labor had started anew and this time it proceeded fast. When I examined her after maybe five or six more contractions, the cervix was already dilated to eight centimeters. The transition phase had started. I expected another hour at longest before the baby would be born. Poor Dana was in constant pain as her body worked hard toward full dilation. The moment one contraction was fading, the next already started. I feared the baby could be in distress at some point because of the ongoing intense labor, so I cautiously mentioned the possibility of an emergency c-section. 

I had anticipated some kind of resistance thinking back to Dana's brusque rejection of medical intervention earlier, but I most certainly had not expected the almost hysteric one I got. "No! Please, no!" she cried out, "I need to know the baby is mine. I can't be under full anesthesia when it's born, I simply can't! Please, Mulder, don't let them narcotize me!" Fox flinched when she grabbed his bicep and dug her nails into his flesh. "Scully, if the baby's life is in jeopardy, or yours, they might have to do it. I promise you I won't take my eyes off of you or the baby. I'll make sure the baby is ours. Trust me," he tried to reason.

I didn't understand what they both were so afraid of. Did they really believe babies were mixed-up in our hospital? I found myself forced to calm everyone. "I just wanted to point out that it's remotely possible we have to consider a c-section. We try our best for a natural childbirth but like your husband said, Dana, if your or your baby's lives are in danger, we have to act quickly. We won't risk losing either of you. Right now, everything looks fine, so just relax, okay? Nothing will happen to your baby."

Dana's answer was a guttural moan as another contraction hit her full force. I was relieved when my next examination showed a fully dilated cervix. The c-section wasn't up for debate anymore, Dana was ready to give birth. I called for a practitioner as she was already experiencing expulsing pains and had to work hard to resist the urge to push.

It didn't go quite as smooth as I had hoped. The baby's head wasn’t perfectly positioned in the birth canal, so whenever the urge to bear down faded and Dana stopped pushing, the head slid back again. But there was only so much power the poor woman had left after almost 18 hours of labor. The practitioner looked at me and mouthed 'episiotomy' but I shook my head. I pictured how Dana would jump off the bed at the view of someone approaching her with a scalpel even if it was with the best intention of helping the baby and her by widening the vaginal opening. The practitioner, fortunately, relied on my evaluation of the situation and tried a different technique. He positioned his flat hands on her belly where the baby's bum pressed against the uterus wall from the inside and pushed downward along with the next contraction to give the baby the decisive impetus on its way out. It didn't work on the first try although Dana was pushing so hard a bursting vein in her nose left her with blood splattered all over her chest. It wasn't a big deal, it happens all the time when mother's push too hard, but Fox got terrified and yelped in shock. 

"Jesus, your nose, Scully! It's bleeding!" His voice was trembling and his hands shaking when he wiped the blood off her upper lip. I didn’t know where Dana took the presence of mind from, maybe it was her doctor's persona talking, but it was her instead of one of us who explained the completely harmless pathological phenomenon to him. "It's okay, Mulder, it's not what you think it is. The pressure went into my head instead of my womb, that's why some blood vessels burst in my nose. It's a harmless nosebleed, nothing elsssssssooooohh, there's another one." 

Still wondering what her words exactly meant, I helped her lift her upper body off the bed and cheered her on to put all the strength she had left into bearing down, and this time the pressure went to the right place. The baby's head emerged and with the next final push, the body followed. The baby was out in the world. Dana sank back into the pillow, completely exhausted. Fox was cemented to his spot behind her and only stared at the bloody, smeary bundle between her legs. Like so many other fathers he was thunderstruck and speechless.

It was a girl. She seemed fine at first glance, cried the second I lifted her up. Usually, I clean the babies before I give them to the mothers. Just a little, to take away most of the blood and the goo, to make them look more comely, but with Dana, I departed from my usual MO. I had learned she was frantic about her baby's identity, so I wanted to give her the security she so desperately needed and placed her daughter on her chest right away.

"It's a girl, Dana. A beautiful girl. Well done," I said.

"Is she alright? Is she healthy?"

"The pediatrician will have a look at her later, but she seems pretty fine to me. Ten fingers, ten toes, and a strong chest." Of course, the baby stopped crying the moment she was placed on Dana's chest, as the familiar sound of her mother's heartbeat calmed her. The cute little thing even opened her eyes and blinked at her.

"Oh my god," Dana breathed, totally in awe. "Hello, little one," she welcomed her newborn daughter and gently cupped the tiny head with her hand. Fox observed the scene, still petrified and obviously unable to utter a single word. It came into my mind that he hadn't been there when their first child was born, so this was all new to him. 

"Fox," I tried to pull him out of his trance, "would you like to cut the cord?"

"Uh, what?"

"The umbilical cord? There are no nerves, so cutting it is not painful. Would you like to do it? Your daughter doesn't need it anymore now that she's breathing on her own."

"My daughter. Right. The cord needs to be cut. Sure. I can do that." 

What an adorable bundle of nerves he was. This hunky man so humble all of a sudden at the sight of the miracle of birth. His hand was trembling when I handed him the scissors. He hesitated, looked at Dana as if waiting for her confirmation that he could proceed. She eased his mind with the same amount of intuitive sensitivity as he had shown while she was in labor.

"The umbilical cord is made of something called Wharton's jelly, Mulder, not ordinary skin. There are no functional pain receptors present in it, so just go ahead and cut it, we won't feel any pain." She might be a pathologist, but she knew a hell of a lot of the anatomy of the living. This woman amazed me. 

This couple amazed me. 

This whole experience today was one of a kind. I'd seen a lot of beautiful moments in my delivery room, emotional, heart-wrenching moments full of happy tears and joyful sobs, but the way Dana and Fox gazed at their daughter and at each other, their faces so full of incredulity and disbelief, hit me to the core. There wasn't the usual crying and sobbing because of the hormone-overload released after hours of tension. It was ghost-like silent, everyone seemed to hold their breath, including myself. It seemed to be a huge moment for them like it is for every couple, but for them, it seemed to be so much more than just the arrival of a baby in their lives. 

I started filling out the maternity log and the forms necessary for the authorities to create the birth certificate, and I usually mind my own business doing this, but in this case, I couldn't keep myself from listening to their conversation. 

"This is really happening, Mulder, isn't it? We're not stuck in a joined hallucination like when we were on that case with the underground fungus?" Dana asked Fox in a hushed voice.

"No, Scully, far and wide no fungus. This is really happening. You...made it happen, only you. You carried this perfect little being in your womb for nine months, you nurtured and protected her, you brought her into this world in an unbelievable feat. I'm in total awe. You were amazing. I can't believe what childbirth demanded from you, what you went through to deliver her safely. You're my hero, Scully."

"Well, Mulder, it's not like you haven't played a part in this."

"Me? I only had a few minutes of fun, but you went through a high-risk pregnancy and so many hours of labor and bearing down pains that gave you a nosebleed."

"If I remember correctly, you lasted more than just a few minutes." 

I had to smile at the sexual allusion and especially the mischievous grin tugging at Dana's mouth. I've always refused to believe that middle-aged couples had to abjure fun in bed just because they weren't wild twenty-somethings anymore.

"Yeah, maybe, but still, I'm one lucky sonofabitch," Fox replied and placed a gentle kiss on Dana's forehead, then on the tip of her nose, and eventually on her mouth. "God, I love you, Scully."

"I love you too, Mulder."

"This is perfect. She...is perfect."

"She is, isn't she?"

"She's got your beauty."

"Oh, come on, Mulder. How can you say that? Her face looks still squashed from being squeezed through the birth canal."

"It's already visible how beautiful she is. To a maven's eye."

"And you are a maven."

"When it comes to her mother's beauty, yes, I am indeed."

I was almost relieved to finally find them in a more than stereotype moment for new parents: totally awe-struck by their baby and totally devoted to each other. I groaned when their sweet intimacy was brutally disturbed by a short knock at the door and the appearance of the pediatrician. He nodded at me curtly, then bellowed insensitively, "how are things going, Rose? Any unusual incidents in here?" 

"No, Doctor Miller. Natural childbirth of a girl at week 39 of a high risk but complication-free pregnancy. Slow, prolonged labor, normal expulsive phase, and vaginal delivery. Mother and child are both well," I summarized.

"Good, good," Doctor Miller, one of the most experienced pediatricians in our hospital, mumbled. "Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. ...umm," he looked at the name tag on Dana's bed, "...Scully. I'm Doctor Miller, the pediatrician on call."

He wasn't on call. I knew because I had checked the duty roster when I asked for running another shift to be able to stay with Dana for the birth of her baby. And he hadn't looked into the medical file apparently because he didn't know the mother's and the father's names weren't the same. Doctor Miller had rushed in unprepared, and I wondered if the medical director had purposely called for him on short notice because of Dana's age. He probably wanted to make sure nothing would be overlooked to prevent legal complications later on, no birth defect, no congenital deformity or illness. The minds of clinical administration personnel are used to think in economic terms rather than humanly compassionate. I sighed inwardly.

"I'm going to abduct your daughter now for her first medical check-up," he said, stretching his arms out in anticipation of Dana handing the baby over to him, but she had gasped at the word 'abduct' and did nothing of that sort. Instead, she pulled the girl closer to her chest. Her reaction to Doctor Miller's announcement fits in with her rejection of ecbolics, anesthesia, and a possible c-section earlier. 

"You're going with her, Mulder. Don't let her out of eyesight, stay with her at all times. Make sure she isn't injected with something, that no blood is drawn from her and that she isn't mixed up." It's wasn’t a favor she asked of Fox, it was a command.

"Uh, this is not the common procedure around here, Mrs. Scully," Doctor Miller informed her. "You'll have your daughter back as soon as I'm done examining her."

"It's Doctor Scully, and I don’t care what the common procedure is. Either her father is going with her, or you have to perform the check-up here in this room where we can see you."

The pediatrician was clearly annoyed and not ready to give in. "May I ask for the reason of your mistrust?" 

"No, you may not," Dana replied with steadfast determination and I felt I had to step in. The situation threatened to get out of hand, and Dana had just been delivered of a child. I pulled doctor Miller aside and whispered to him, "please, doctor, let her be. I don't know why she worries that much, but I think it has something to do with how they lost their first child. This woman has just given birth, she needs to rest and not to tense up. Can't you make an exception just this once? Please?"

"Hmf," he grumbled, "since when do patients decide about medical procedures? But in God's name, if it's so important to her." He turned around, looked at Fox and said,"okay, Mr. Scully, you can come with me." He moved to take the baby from Dana but Fox preempted him. He gently cradled the tiny bundle in his long arms and replied, "thank you for your understanding, Doctor Miller, we really appreciate it, but I'll carry her. And," he paused a short moment, "my name is Mulder, not Scully. Which you would know if you had cast a glance at my wife's admitting form before rushing in here and demanding to take our daughter away from us." 

Doctor Miller had nothing to say to this. Leaving Fox's remark unanswered, probably because he felt caught, he turned around and rushed out of the room. 

"I'll bring her back to you as fast as I can, Scully," Fox breathed into Dana's hair before he kissed her temple and followed the pediatrician into the hallway.

The door slid shut behind them and Dana sank back into the pillow. It was the sign for me to bring the whole thing to a close. 

"Let's deliver the placenta, Dana, so you can enjoy your baby girl and rest when Fox is back with her." 

I gently massaged my patient's abdomen to stimulate the placental separation and when I felt a light contraction under my fingertips I told her to push one last time. Afterward, I cleaned her up and put a fresh hospital gown on her, the opening on the front because as soon as the baby was back she would be put to her mother's breast.

"Have you decided on a name yet?" I asked to distract Dana as she became increasingly jittery the longer Fox and the baby were gone.

"Hetty," she answered lost in thought, "Hetty Melissa Samantha Mulder."

"The names have a special meaning to you and Fox, I assume?" It wasn't so difficult to get that from the way Dana had pronounced them, her voice thick and herself close to tears.

"Melissa was my sister's name, Samantha Mulder's."

"And they are both already..." I trailed off, afraid of the answer I would get.

"Gone. Yes."

"And Hetty?" I prayed to God that I would be spared hearing of another loss this pitiable couple had suffered from.

"The name Hetty is of African origin and means star. That's what she is, our little star." 

I was relieved, and even more so when the door opened and Fox reentered the room, in his arms a bundle covered in a pink blanket, on his face, a wide smile. 

"She passed every test with flying colors, Scully. She's perfectly healthy and the most beautiful baby of the entire neonatal ward."

He placed his daughter in her mother's outstretched arms and his smile got even wider gazing at them. This was what I wanted to see in my delivery room: the joy and love and awe and puzzlement at the wonder of a new life on this planet. The wonder soon made herself heard which was my cue to help Dana latch her on. "C'mere, sweetheart, mommy has something for you," I cooed at little Hetty as I peeled her out of Dana's embrace who then opened the front of the gown to expose one of her breasts. I placed the baby chest to chest with her mother, brought her upper lip in contact with the nipple and when she opened her mouth wide, I pushed her gently onto the breast. Hetty instinctively closed her mouth and instantly started sucking. 

Dana had clearly done this before, she held the baby perfectly in front of herself with one arm and supported her breast with her free hand to make it easier for Hetty to drink. She was relaxed and enjoyed this special mother-child-moment. Fox had been watching the whole procedure in total awe, and when his daughter was sucking, slurping audibly, he voiced his amazement. "This is incredible. I have missed all this with William," he hiccuped. Dana cupped his face when she answered, "you're here now, Mulder, that's all that matters. You're a father."

"I'm a father," he repeated with a melancholy in his voice I couldn't quite understand. The conversation that followed left me absolutely confused. I wasn't eavesdropping, they just didn’t mind me hearing them, or they had completely forgotten I was there. It was impossible to not realize that they were talking about a crucial moment of their lives.

"Mulder, what I said on the dock-"

"It's okay, Scully, I made my peace with it."

"No, I was wrong, Mulder. I think I was trying to distance myself from him in order not to shatter into a million pieces right there. What Skinner told me...what I had to listen to...the idea in and of itself is so sick...what that nicotine-addicted piece of shit did to me...to us..."

"He's dead, Scully. I emptied my clip into him and threw him into the water. He can't harm us anymore."

I have to admit, at this point, the blood ran cold in my veins. And it didn't get better.

"You are William's father, Mulder. You loved him, you mourned him, you tracked him down to protect him. You would've given your life for him. You are a father in the best sense of the word. The Cigarette Smoking Man never was a father. Not to you, not to Jeffrey Spender, and most certainly not to William. I won't let him take our son away from us. William is ours. He's always been ours." 

Fox hung on every word Dana uttered. One could literally observe how every single one soothed his battered soul. 

"If he was telling the truth-" he started.

"He was not telling the truth!"

"The thought in and of itself is so monstrous, so disgusting and horrifying. We'd be half-brothers, Scully!" Fox disgorged the words like a cat disgorges a hairball.

"Mul-"

"And it gets even better," he continued undeterred, a sour chuckle now escaping his throat, "it'd mean that instead of carrying my child you carried-"

"Mulder, stop! I don’t want to hear it. The bastard was a liar through and through, he wasn't telling the truth. You are William's father. He is our son, and nobody tells me otherwise."

My ears were burning. I felt so uncomfortable hearing this, so utterly aghast, that I wished a hole was opening to swallow me. The words spoken didn’t make any sense to me, the subject matter they were talking about was so disturbing, so angst-inducing, I began to fathom where their paranoia concerning their newborn had been coming from.

"She's his sister," Fox murmured eventually. He had calmed down. His face, which had been strangely contorted for the time they had discussed Fox's fatherhood to their lost son, reflected the adoration for his wife and daughter again. He was a handsome man, one of the kinds that ages well. "Do you think he would've liked to have a sibling?" he asked her.

"He's alive, Mulder, I know he is."

"Another vision?"

Dana shook her head. "I just know."

"Will he come back to us? One day? Maybe to get to know his baby sister?"

"I don't know, I hope. Right now, he doesn't want to be found. That's why he let himself got shot."

"It was the second time he played that trick on us."

"Only that this time he retreated from us for the time being."

"I held him, Scully. For a short moment, he let me hug him. And he told you he knew you loved him. He isn't done with us. And he knows how to find us if he cares to. We have to leave it to him. There's nothing else we can do. All we can do is keep loving him."

It seemed Fox and Dana had lost themselves, as they were mingling the past and the present. One moment, they spoke of their son like he was gone, the next, it seemed he was still present in their lives. I asked myself how the birth of their baby daughter had brought all this to the surface. Maybe the birth of a new baby does this to parents, lets them strengthen the bond to their lost child as well as loosen it at the same time. I can't tell, I didn't have another after I had lost mine.

I got lost in my own thoughts for a moment, my heart heavy with my own grief, before I was catapulted back to the reality of the delivery room when I heard Fox yelp.

"It's okay, Mulder. She just spit up a bit of milk. Her stomach is tiny and I guess she enjoyed sucking and had a little too much. It's no big deal. She's going to spit on you countless times over the next weeks, believe me. You better get used it."

Thank God for experienced second-time mothers, I said to myself. To Dana, I said, "give her to me. I'll dress her in one of your onesies. I take it you brought some. Then, we'll get you settled into your room. I've got you a nice one with a v-"

"Oh, they're not staying," Fox interrupted me quite resolutely, "I'm taking them home as soon as Scully is cleared to leave."

"What? You had this planned as an outpatient birth?" Were you out of your mind, I wanted to add, and to my horror, Dana confirmed with a determined, "yes."

"Dana," I said to her as if to a child I wanted to convince it was important to eat all the veggies, "with all due respect, you've just given birth after 18 hours of labor at the age of 54. The fact that your high-risk pregnancy ran smoothly and without major complications doesn't necessarily mean your puerperium will. I highly recommend you and your daughter spend at least one night here for observation. Better two."

"Rose, I appreciate your concern, I really do. You've been a great help through this, but I'm a medical doctor, I can take care of myself from here."

"You're not supposed to take care of yourself, Dana," I almost shouted at her, "it's important for you to rest, both physically and emotionally."

"I can do that best when I'm home," she replied so composedly and calmly, I almost believed her. Almost. 

"But why not here where there's a medical staff at service at all times?"

"I need to keep them safe, Rose," Fox threw in eventually, "and it's easier for me to do that at our house."

"What makes you think they are not safe here?"

"My experience," he answered flatly and stole my thunder completely with it. What arguments could I have used to convince Fox to place his experience in the back seat? His bitter experience from what I got from their conversation. So I gave in. I didn't have any means to keep them anyway. They were free to leave the hospital at their own risk anytime, and if I understood them correctly, they assessed the risk higher if they stayed than if they left.

I looked intensely at Fox, while I gave him a list of dos and don'ts. "Make sure she lies down for at least the next 24 hours. No household duties whatsoever, no nappy change, no making coffee, no folding laundry, no nothing. You escort her to the bathroom and back. If you notice the slightest anomalies with either of them, like forehead sweat, pale skin, elevated temperature, you give us a call. If your wife suffers from persistent nausea or bleeding, you give us a call. Immediately. No matter what time of day or night. Are we clear?"

"Perfectly," he answered compliantly.

"I also happen to be a free-lance midwife, so I will come to your house the day after tomorrow to check on both of them. I have to make sure your daughter puts on some weight and that her navel heals well. I have to monitor the involution of your wife's uterus and whether breastfeeding goes well. I will drive a red Nissan, by the way, so don't shoot me when I'm pulling into your driveway." I simply couldn't bite back the sarcasm.

"Well, I can't promise you anything, Rose, because you know how it is, you can take the man out of the FBI, but you can't take the FBI out of the man.” 

If he tried to sound intimidating, he failed miserably. He couldn't even keep the corners of his mouth from twitching. He had spoken about how he'd emptied a clip into a man; not into a man though, into a piece of shit, sonofabitch, pathological liar. I guess that was why it didn't really bother me. I simply brushed it aside and told him, "your insurance will charge you extra for midwife home visits."

He feigned to be shocked for a second, then smiled. "That's okay," he said in the smoothest of voices.

"Very well then," I huffed, "I'll fetch a doctor for a final examination. After that, I'll get the discharge papers ready and you can take them home."

I was already on my way out, stampeding toward the door when I felt Fox's hand on my shoulder. His voice was warm again, bereft of the rigidity of a few moments ago.

"Rose, please don't take this the wrong way. You've been wonderful. I know you volunteered to stay with Scully until the end. You've been nothing but a blessing. You're an amazing labor nurse and I promise I will make you coffee and welcome you to our house when you come to us for the home visit. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't want anybody but you to take care of my two most precious treasures."

My heart melted and my anger and incomprehension went phut. Once again, these two people impressed me. They voiced their sincere gratefulness, acknowledged my part in the drama of this birth, but also followed an unswerving way when it came to their very own interests. Fox simply acted like a mother bear taking care of her cubs. How could I have been mad at him? I showed him a smile. "Do you have a milk frother?"

"You bet. I can even offer you a variety of flavor shots. Hazelnut, vanilla, caramel."

"What are you? A trained barista?"

"No, just a coffee connoisseur who happily welcomes everyone to his house who appreciates a freshly brewed cup of coffee, because my better half here," he quirked an eyebrow in Dana's direction, "prefers organic green tea." 

I had to chuckle when I saw Dana roll her eyes. They were really simply adorable. 

I fetched the gynecologist and pediatrician to examine Dana and Hetty. They were both perfectly well, so after another two or three hours, they would be free to go. 

Now that I'm in the locker room, after I wrote the report about my shift, scheduled my home visit with the Mulder-Scully family, and changed out of my scrubs into my clothes, I have to say my long working day has been absolutely remarkable. Should I ever write a book about my experiences as a labor nurse, this day would get mentioned as one of the most interesting ones of my entire working life. Not so much because of the sequences of this delivery, it had more or less been a textbook example despite the mother's advanced age. It was this extraordinary parental couple who made it so special. I supposed, they not only made it through this together but through many other challenges life had thrown at them. I am really looking forward to walking a little way on their roads.

I'm on my way out and there they are, heading toward the main gate. Hetty is securely buckled up in the car seat Fox is carrying, cocooned in a hat, mittens and a warm blanket. His other arm is curled around Dana's waist, supporting her as well as keeping her close. I told him I would rely on him to make this ambulant birth thing work, that he was responsible for both his wife's and his daughter's well-being and what I'm seeing right now tells me my confidence in him is justified. He has them both under his wings and anyone with the intention to get at them has to get past him first. 

Who wouldn't want to have a Fox Mulder in their lives?


	2. Chapter 2

It's been 48 hours since Hetty Melissa Samantha Mulder made her appearance. The little family hasn't gone out of my head for the past two days and I'm looking forward to my home visit which has been scheduled for today. I packed my bag after a long but eventless shift at the hospital which took me quite a bit because I haven't been practicing this freelancer part of my job for some time. I can't really tell why because I've actually always liked the home visits. The atmosphere is much more personal than in a hospital, the parents are more relaxed and so the babies are more relaxed too. 

I climbed into my beat-up car two hours ago, the directions Fox had given me on my lap. I had told him I wouldn't need directions, bragging about the state-of-the-art navigation system my nephew had installed in my car just a week earlier. He had only pursed his lips, explaining to me that their house wasn't to be found on any kind of map, analog or digital. He had scribbled down explicit directions which should have prepared me in some way for what I would be faced with. 'Turn right 250 yards after you pass a deserted telephone booth' I had read on the legal pad he had used for his notes, and 'follow the road for approx. 10 min., even if you think it isn't a road anymore'. That should have told me their housing situation was somewhat remote, but my ride to this particular home visit has turned out to be rather an adventure trip than a trip to work.

Just like Fox had predicted, I was convinced more than once that I had taken the wrong road. I passed deserted, crumbled houses and miles of uninhabited farmland. I drove through a wild wood with a huge trunk that must have fallen onto the road during the last thunderstorm. It had been dissected exactly wide enough to allow a single car to pass through. When I arrived at a huge, heavy steel gate, I typed in the security code Fox had whispered into my ear. "I'm not writing it down, Rose, you have to memorize it," he had said, "and don't pass it on, to anybody," he had urged in an afterthought. Had I believed that I was almost there when I closed the gate behind me, I would've been mistaken. It took another 10-minute ride until I made out my final destination on the horizon and 5 more minutes until I reached it. 

The house that demands of its visitors to expend so much effort just to reach the front door is surprisingly unremarkable now that I'm finally standing in front of it. It's a two-story country house with a porch. It isn't fancy, not painted in any distinctive colors, no eye-catching window shutters, no fancy roof, no extensive driveway, no nothing. It's neither overly maintained, neither rundown. It's so unimpressive it's as if its intention was to be overlooked. I can't avoid the impression that I have been approaching a secret hideout, somebody's safe haven. Everything of this house's exterior yells 'stay away, leave me alone' at me. I'm glad I am awaited but, still, I can't get rid of the queasy feeling when I knock at the door.

I expected to see Fox, but a young man opens the door. A teenager, maybe 17 or 18 years old. I don’t know why it takes me by surprise the way it does, maybe because Fox and Dana seemed so at one with themselves when they left the hospital that I haven't pictured guests waiting for them when they returned home, even if it was family. And the lanky teenager obviously is family. In his face, I can make out a lot of features I have also seen in Dana's: the high cheekbones, the slightly Roman nose, the angular chin. Even the eyes, although his are darker. Dana's small height isn't running in the family apparently, because the boy is huge. Taller than Fox I estimate, and Fox isn't exactly a dwarf.

"Hello," I say to him, "my name is Rose Randon. I'm the midwife. I came to check on Dana and Hetty. I have an appointment."

"Yes, Mulder said you were going to come. He's out running some errands. Please, come in ma'am." 

I step inside and instantly feel at home. The house spreads warmth and coziness. It's clearly decorated by a woman, a woman who has been off duty recently though. There are pizza boxes on the coffee table, dirty dishes on the kitchen counter, the throw pillows are scattered randomly on the couch, and the flowers in the vase are withered. I'm relieved to see this mess because it means Dana is complying with the bed rest I ordered. In the meantime, Fox and the young lad are trying to run the household but are doing a poor job at it. It's a very familiar sight. Most houses I come to for a home visit shortly after mother and newborn have returned from the hospital look like this, and I'm always glad to see that the new parents care more for their baby and themselves than for the dishes or the dust on the floor.

"Call me Rose, please," I tell the young man. 

He nods. "I'm Jackson." 

"How is everybody doing?"

"Pretty good, I think. The baby cries quite a bit, but I guess that's normal, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. She can't say, 'I'm hungry', 'my bottom is wet' or 'I want to cuddle'. All she can do to tell her environment that she's uncomfortable is cry."

"Dana always seems to know what she wants. She says the crying sounds different when she's hungry from when her diaper needs to be changed. To me, it always sounds the same."

"Mothers learn quickly to understand their babies' needs," I explain to him. "It's intended by nature. Babies are completely dependent on their parents' ability to read the signs of their behavior. They have to be able to tell whether their baby is crying in pain or just because they don't feel like sleeping alone in their crib."

"Dana is really good at this, but not Mulder. He runs to the nursery whenever a whimper comes through the baby monitor," the boy tells me with a slight smirk. "Dana tells him to stay put and let her be, but he literally jumps up and checks on her. And then he comes back with the baby in his arms, his eyes sparkling when he tells us that she stopped crying the moment he lifted her up, and Dana says that that was exactly what she'd intended and that he would be summoned to her crib until eternity if he didn't stop running to her the second she emitted a sound. Then Mulder says that only a cold-hearted person could let a helpless baby cry and Dana only rolls her eyes. It's really funny."

I smile. Everything is running totally normal and I'm glad they have this young man around to help. I can't fathom Fox going out to run some errands and leaving Dana and Hetty alone, given the way he kept them under his watch at the hospital.

"Where are Dana and Hetty now?" I ask. The baby monitor is placed on the kitchen counter but is silent.

"Dana nursed her about two hours ago and they are both upstairs sleeping, I guess. Do you want me to wake them?"

"Oh no. Dana needs as much sleep as she can get. When do you think Fox will be home?”

This is to be my last job of the day and I'm willing to wait a bit, but I also have some errands to run and at the end of a busy work week a pile of laundry is waiting for me at home.

"Any minute. Actually, he said he wanted to be home before you'd be here. I wonder what's taking him so long. He doesn’t feel really comfortable leaving the girls alone. He's nervous about everything these days," he adds with an eye roll much like Dana's. "He thinks I'm too young to look after them, especially the baby."

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

His face is one of an eighteen-year-old - taut but smooth, his skin soft with only a hint of facial hair - but from the way he converses, he seems older than eighteen. His whole aura, the way he talks and moves around, appears older, as if he's experienced more in his life than teenagers his age usually do. I've become curious about this young man Fox trusts enough to leave sleeping Dana and Hetty alone with him. 

"Where are you from?" I ask.

"I grew up on a farm in Wyoming, but we moved to Norfolk, Virginia, some time ago."

"Oh, it's nice to have family somewhat close. One can get together easily."

"One could, yes," he replies, a sudden sadness threaded through his voice.

"Have your parents had a look at the new family member yet?"

My question made him uncomfortable, and I regret instantly having asked it. All I want for us is to have a light conversation until Fox returns, but I've picked a bad topic. The boy buries his hands in his pants pockets to hide that he's clenched them into fists. His mouth becomes a serious line, and his eyes are fixated on something on the ground at his feet when he forces the answer out.

"My parents are dead."

I gasp. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry! What happened?" 

"They were shot." 

I am shocked. What has happened with this family? Why do these people have to face so many strokes of fate? Even an eighteen-year-old hasn't been spared a blow. Before I can even think of what to say to the poor kid, my attention is drawn to the sound of a car pulling up the driveway.

Jackson also notices it. "Mulder's back. I'll give him a hand," he says and is already out the door. 

He's a good kid, but I bet his willingness to help is also an excuse to end our conversation. A minute later, he's back, following Fox in his tracks, both of them carrying several shopping bags full of groceries and diapers. 

Fox's face lightens up when he sees me. "Rose!" he cries out, "so good to see you again!" 

He puts the bags on the kitchen counter, then he comes over to me and engages me in a hug. I'm a bit surprised by his exuberant welcome.

"I already saw your car in the driveway, the red Nissan you told me about. You could've mentioned the bumper sticker saying 'This Is a UFO Chase Vehicle'." 

He tosses a sly glance in my direction. I sigh. As if I haven't been ridiculed enough because of this stupid sticker. 

"Yeah, well, it was on the car when I bought it, and I couldn't get it off without scratching the paint off the bumper, so I left it there. Chasing UFOs isn't exactly my favorite waste of time," I say and chuckle, but Fox remains deadly serious.

"Oh, it should be," he replies, "it can be a lot of fun." 

His face is completely neutral, which leads me to believe he isn't pulling my leg. On the contrary, he seems totally sincere about it. Before I can ask if he's really interested in this crap - UFOs and aliens and all the conspiracy theories woven around them - Fox drops the topic. 

"I apologize for not being here in time for our appointment. I was a bit overwhelmed by the variety of diapers at the supermarket and I couldn't find an employee to help me pick the right one. I had to ask a customer for advice, a woman who had two toddlers sitting in her cart. She introduced me to the finer points of nappy shopping. There were so many brands and so many different products, jeez, I would've been lost without her. I got three packs for newborns - not too many, she said, for they grow out of them fast - two packs of over-night diapers, and several packs of wet wipes. She said they should last about two or three weeks. Good god, I'll have to do some research before I go on my next shopping trip. Scully should've have prepared me for this. She told me in great detail what food she won't be allowed to eat as long as she nurses Hetty but forgot to mention what kind of diapers we needed."

I have to suppress a grin. Fox's tale of his first experiences in the baby aisle at the supermarket is very entertaining. 

"Don't worry," I calm him, "your nephew kept me company." 

"My nephew?"

"Jackson," I supply, surprised I have to remind him of his house guest. 

"Jackson? Oh, yeah. Sure. Jackson," Fox hurries to confirm, shaking the questioning look off his face, but something is not right. I have simply assumed Jackson was his nephew, the kid's resemblance to Dana has led me to believe he's her sister's or brother's son. I'm usually quite good at this, at noticing family ties by physical resemblances, but here it seems I am off target. I'm still trying to make something of Fox's reaction when the baby monitor emits a faint gurgle.

"Hetty," Fox points out as if it were necessary, and before I can even reply anything, he's already on his way. "Daddy's coming, sweetheart," he's chirping, running up the stairs taking two at a time. I look at Jackson who throws me a that's-what-I-meant look and we both smile at each other.

"Care to show me the nursery, Jackson? Now that Hetty is awake, I might as well do my examination."

"Sure. This way." He motions me to follow him up the stairs. "Is there something wrong with her that you have to examine her?"

I'm touched by the worry in his voice. Teenage boys usually are more or less unemotional about babies or, let's say, they don't show their emotions so openly.

"No, there is absolutely nothing wrong with her. It's just a routine postnatal check-up. Within the first week after birth, there are some things to be examined on a newborn. It's a regular procedure performed on every baby. Nothing to worry about."

"Like what?"

The boy is really interested and I wonder if he is heading into the medical field just like his aunt. I still believe Dana is his aunt, despite Fox's weird reaction. Nothing else seems to make sense. Maybe Fox doesn't feel as closely related to Jackson because the boy is family from Dana's side, who knows? I might get a chance to ask about their family ties later. 

"It's important a baby gains weight, that all the physical reflexes are there, and that the stump of the umbilical cord heals well. Things like that. The vast majority of babies are born healthy, so these are routine check-ups. Dana's pregnancy was a high-risk pregnancy because of-"

"-her age," Jackson cuts me short with some determination. "Just...her age. Nothing else."

I don't understand where this emphasis comes from, this need to point out to me - or maybe rather to himself? - that Dana's advanced age has been the sole risk factor for a possible birth defect.

"There was nothing in her maternity log about other risk factors, so I'd say yes, just her age."

"If Hetty was...special...I mean, if she had abilities...uhm, if she could do things no other baby could...would you be able to detect them this way?"

"I don’t what you mean, Jackson. What kind of abilities are you talking about?"

"Forget it. I'm just a bit anxious to know that she's alright, I guess."

He tries to downplay his fears with a non-committal shrug, but I can tell he's bottling up some deep worries and I begin to realize this boy isn’t simply some family member - nephew or cousin or uncle or whatever he may be – who's here because he wanted to cast a first glance at the baby. There's something else, a need to be sure of something, the hope for a fear to be proven wrong. It reminds me of how eager Dana and Fox were to find out Hetty was okay when she was born and how they still had problems believing it although the girl had passed every postnatal test there was with a high score. This boy is unduly concerned for this baby girl, and I start to see he was also special. Special in a similar way as Dana and Fox; and maybe Hetty. At least that's what Jackson thinks obviously - or fears? - that she's special.

I stop musing when we reach the nursery because the sight I am offered is just too adorable. This 6 foot 2 hunk with broad shoulders and an impressive bicep is cradling the tiny rosy bundle in his arms as if Hetty was a feather. He sways his hips, cooing a sweet melody into his daughter's ear. The baby has ceased to cry, actually, she hadn't cried at all because Fox was at her crib before she emitted more than a faint whimper. He really is a bit overprotective of her, but it's nothing I haven't seen before in a new parent. I like the ones who care too much better than the ones who neglect their newborns. 

"Fox?" I call him, cautious not to startle him, "can I come in?"

He turns around to meet my eyes. "Sure, Rose. She stopped crying," he tells me proudly as if it wasn't obvious she did. 

Jackson strides past me right up to the changing table. He reaches for the baby monitor and shuts it off. 

"How often do I have to tell you that you have to shut this off if you don't want to broadcast your silly sing-song through the entire house, Mulder? Do you want to wake Dana?" 

"Silly sing-song? Did you hear that, pumpkin? You like Daddy's voice, don't you?" Fox buries his nose in the bundle in his arms and takes a deep breath. "Mmmm, you smell so good."

"She stinks!" Jackson declares slightly annoyed. "You have to change her. That's probably why she started to whimper, to begin with."

"Don't listen to him, sweetie. You don't stink, you smell like a warm butter cake right out of the oven." 

As if to prove it, Fox takes another deep inhale of his daughter's smell. She does indeed have a full diaper, I can tell. I chuckle when I approach them, for this banter between an overjoyed father with rose-colored glasses who looks at his daughter as if into a pot of gold and a teenager having difficulties understanding why adults make so much fuss about a baby who only eats, sleeps, cries, and fills diapers, is too funny. I lay my arm on his shoulder when I say, "she's very sweet, Fox, but Jackson is right, she needs to be changed. Do you want me to do it? I could have a look at how the stump is healing while I'm at it," I offer.

"No, thanks Rose, I'll do it, but you can check her out, of course," Fox answers. 

He places Hetty on the changing table and starts undressing her. He's already very good at it, his movements are fluent and certain. It's apparent that he has been doing this regularly and not only this once to show off. Part is most certainly that he wants to allow Dana to rest, but he also enjoys this time with his daughter. His eyes sparkle and he's constantly talking to the baby. 

"Let me wipe your bottom, honey bunch. Here you go, all clean and dry. Want me to tickle you a little?" And when he does and when the baby squeals in delight of her father's ministrations, his face lights up in pure joy. He reaches out for a fresh diaper and onesie with one hand, pinning his daughter down at the changing table with the other like a pro. "Ooooh, how about this shirt Uncle Skinner gave you?"

"Let me have a look at her, before you dress her, Fox," I say as I put my bag down.

Hetty is lying on her back before me, kicking her chubby legs. She looks healthy and content, I have no doubts she is well cared for, but there are some regular checks to perform. I start with the stump, the one Fox left behind when he cut the umbilical cord. It doesn’t show any signs of redness or swelling. "It will fall off on its own in about a week," I explain to Fox. "Don't apply anything to it, just keep it clean and dry."

"Mommy already told us, didn't she, Hetty? You will have the most beautiful belly button once it's completely healed," he coos to the baby, ignoring me, but I don't mind. He already dreams of blowing raspberries onto his daughter's belly button, of that I'm sure.

Next is the baby's skin. "Did you notice any rashes on her skin, Fox?" 

"On her throat. I think it was because of the onesie she wore that day. It rubbed her delicate skin."

"Very likely. Keep the creases dry, especially at the wrists and ankles, and the bottom of course. I don't really recommend applying any lotions or powders, and don't use perfumed soap to wash her, just clear water. Her skin just needs to get used to the clothing and the air. It's used to being surrounded by the amniotic fluid in her mother's womb. Dryness or some skin peeling is nothing to worry about."

"Mommy told us this also, right sweetie?" Fox tells his daughter who just looks at the source of the familiar sound with her big blue eyes. He really is adorable in the way he converses with the baby. "Mommy showed me how to take care of you. How to hold your head, how to wipe your bottom, how to bathe you, and how to make you burp. The only thing your mommy hasn't delegated is nursing."

"For obvious reasons. I'm sure, if it were physically possible, you would love to do that too, Mulder, wouldn't you?"

Unnoticed by any of us, Dana has entered the nursery. 

Fox looks a bit indignant because of her quip but Jackson giggles and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to suppress a grin. 

"In a few weeks, we'll get her accustomed to formula, then you can feed her and become a true super dad," Dana concludes.

"Hardy har har, Scully. Miss Rose here," he waves in my direction, "made me swear to her to give you enough time to rest, so I'm only trying to fulfill my fatherly duties."

"I know, and I love you for it," Dana replies and places a quick peck on Fox's pouty mouth. She turns to me then and shows me a warm smile. "Thanks for coming by, Rose. I really appreciate you saving us the trouble of a trip downtown to the hospital."

"Oh, it's a pleasure, and if I get the vanilla latte macchiato Fox promised me at the hospital, it's worth the drive out here. Although I have to say, I didn’t expect the place to be so rural."

"Yeah, well, we like it that way. It's quiet out here, the air is fresh and clean, and there's lots of nature around. A perfect surrounding for this little lady to grow up in," Dana reasons but I can't get rid of the feeling that this house is rather a refuge where they retreat from the rest of the world, or certain parts of it, at least. But it's none of my business, I have come here to look after said little lady and her mother.

"So how have the last two days been, Dana? Have you been able to rest?"

"Yes, I have. Thanks to super dad here, who has also positioned himself as a contender for the title super husband." She smiles at Fox and I witness the same loving gaze between them I had already seen at the hospital.

"That's good. We can have a talk later, let me finish with Hetty first. How have her bowel movements been?"

"Bowel movements? Okay, that's my cue, I'm off," Jackson announces, turning on his heel. 

"I promised you a nice cup of coffee, didn't I, Rose? I think I should be heading downstairs to get the coffee machine heated up," Fox tells us and in a matter of seconds, Dana and I are alone.

"That was fast," I register with a grin.

"Yeah, talk about a baby's bowel movements to a man and you scare him away as sure as night follows day."

"Haha, yes. I have also seen them flee from the mention of breast problems or postpartum bleeding." 

"Sore nipples and clogged ducts."

"Hemorrhoids. Constipation."

"Vaginal pain."

We both burst into laughter, two medically trained women for whom no human condition is foreign. It's a good laugh that connects us in a way. I really feel very close to this woman and I would also like to talk to her about other things than the medical condition of her baby and herself, but I have to finish what I have come to do first, and that is to check if mother and child are recovering well from the delivery.

"Fun aside, Dana, does Hetty urinate and how are her bowel movements?"

"She's doing fine. There was no delay in her starting to urinate and she passed meconium in the time span that could be expected after birth. Since then after each feeding, she's had a movement. Her digestive system is working just fine."

Her medical training makes my job easy as Dana knows exactly where my questions are heading. She has it all under control. Although I doubt she worries about herself the way she worries about her daughter. She looks good, though. It's amazing actually how good. She's 54 years old and gave birth only 48 hours ago, but oh, is she beautiful. She's wearing a silk robe that isn't hiding the postpartum bump completely but accentuates her otherwise slim frame. Her hair has been washed and put in a ponytail, some shorter strands tucked behind her ears. She hasn't put any makeup on and looks wonderfully natural. I hadn't noticed her many freckles before and that there's a mole on her upper lip. Her eyes shine in the bluest blue I have ever seen.

"And what about you, Dana? Have you been able to go to the bathroom since you gave birth?"

"Yes," she says with a smile, "you saved me from an episiotomy, that has helped."

"I wouldn't say I saved you."

"Oh yes, you did. I saw the doctor mouth it to you. You shook your head. And you were right, I wouldn't have allowed him to perform it. Although I knew it would've helped me. Us. It would've made it easier for Hetty to slip out. But...I...I just couldn't..."

"There's no need to explain, Dana. Doctor Willer is a very experienced obstetrician, I knew he had more tricks up his sleeve than an episiotomy."

"Thank you, Rose. You probably thought I didn’t notice how well you cared for me, but I did. I felt safe and protected, and I also noticed you were working a second shift."

She embarrasses me, so I try to play it down. "Well, it's my job to care for my patients."

"I know it is, but it's not your job to work a double shift. I've been in the medical field for a long time myself, and I voluntarily worked double shifts. I know what it means. You exceeded in your care for Hetty and me, and I want to say thank you."

"You're welcome, Dana. Very welcome. I just didn't want...I couldn't...I couldn't go home and leave you to someone else. Your needs were so...special, and I had the feeling I understood them."

"That's what I meant, Rose. You're a very compassionate nurse and damn good at your job. We were lucky you were on call when we came in."

I'm not used to so much praise and I don't know how to deal with it, so I decide to return to the medical part. But Dana's kind words, her open gratefulness, mean a lot to me. They warm me within. I have to clear my throat before I'm able to move back to the medical task at hand.

"Let's weigh her," I say, bending down to get the portable, hand-held baby scale out of my bag. I like to call it my 'stork's scale' because when I place the baby in the sling and attach the sling to the scale to raise it, it always reminds me of a stork carrying a baby in a sling in its beak.

Hetty weighs 6 pounds 3 ounces, which means she's lost a bit of weight, but not more than expected during her first days of life.

"Most newborns lose 5 to 7 percent of their birth weight, it's nothing to worry about, Dana," I tell her something the probably knows anyway. "She should be back at her birth weight in about a week or two."

"I'm aware of that. She's a hungry little lady, I have to say. She asks for a meal every three to four hours."

"Good. I'll have a look at how breastfeeding works for the both of you later after I have examined you."

"Me?" 

She seems surprised. As if she hadn't expected I'm here to look after her too.

"Yes, you, Dana. You're also my patient, not just Hetty."

"I'm fine, Rose, really. There's no need-"

"Let me stop you here," I interrupt her. 

It's a scientific fact that doctors make the worst patients, and I have a textbook example right in front of my face. 

"I'm almost done with Hetty. We'll dress her and put her in her crib so that I can have a look at you. I'd neglect my duties as a midwife if skipped that part, and I'm a very dutiful person." 

Apparently, I've threaded enough determination into my voice to make her understand I won't leave without performing my examination on her because she sighs, tilts her head in defeat, and mumbles a just audible 'if you insist' under her breath.

"I do indeed, Dana," I confirm. "Why don't you go ahead and make yourself comfortable on your bed, I'll follow you in a moment."

She turns around wordlessly and pads through a connecting door to what has to be the master bedroom. I quickly take Hetty's temperature, which is normal, and finish her checkup. Everything is fine, she is a perfectly healthy baby. Having been a high-risk pregnancy had no consequences whatsoever for this little jelly bean. 

I dress Hetty in the clothes Fox picked out. Whoever 'Uncle Skinner' is, he really gave them a nice present. The fox imprinted on the front most certainly was meant as an allusion to the father's first name. I wonder if the bunny also has a special meaning, maybe applying to Dana. When the baby's fully dressed, I put her in the crib, hoping she will give me enough time to examine her mother thoroughly. On the other hand, I can be sure that as soon as she starts whimpering, her father will scoot up the stairs to soothe her. So I flick the switch on the baby monitor back on for Fox to be able to hear her downstairs. 

When I join Dana in the bedroom, she hasn’t been lying down as asked but is sitting on the edge of the bed. The room is tidy and well-aired, the bed made. On the chest at the foot of the bed, there's a pile of clothes, neatly folded. She hasn't been able to refrain from all household duties obviously, but this bit of activity is okay.

I announce myself, asking her softly, "why is it so difficult for you to let someone take care of you?"

"I'm just not used to it. I'm the doctor around here, it's me who takes care of the others."

"You don't allow yourself to be weak or vulnerable often, am I right?" 

She looks at me, her pensive face softening a bit. "Are you also a psychologist?"

"No, I just know quite a bit of human nature." 

She hums when she lets the robe slide off her shoulders. She lays on her back and pulls the top of her silk pajamas up to expose her stomach. It's still round and soft, which is normal for two days after birth. There aren't that many stretch marks but a nasty scar that looks like a gunshot wound. I don’t ask her about it, it simply adds to the mystery this woman is to me. I slide the waistband of her pants down to her hips to be able to palpate her abdomen. The uterus feels firm and has shrunk to the size of a grapefruit. 

"Have you had any after-pains?"

"Some. While nursing mainly."

"If they are too painful, a hot compress can be alleviating." 

"They've been bearable so far."

"Of course," I can't but sigh. She wouldn't hesitate to apply a hot compress to anyone else to alleviate pain, of that I'm sure, but when it comes to herself she decides to bear the pain. I take her pulse and her temperature to rule out an infection. 

"Are you experiencing unilateral calf pains or have you noticed a swelling or redness?"

"No."

"Shortness of breath or chest pain?"

"No, Rose. I'm neither developing a deep vein thrombosis, nor a pulmonary embolism," she tells me in a way that irritates me a bit.

"I'm just trying to do my job here, Dana. They would've asked you the same questions at the hospital. I know you're a medical doctor and I'm only a nurse, but I'm the expert when it comes to childbed care, so let me finish the prescribed procedure to make sure we don't overlook any diagnostic findings, okay?" 

Her face tells me she doesn't really like what she hears, but she eventually agrees, albeit only reluctantly. 

"Okay. Sorry."

"Fine. Let's get over and done with this then. How does the breastfeeding go? Any difficulties?"

"No."

"No lumps, no sore or cracked nipples, no red, hot spots?"

"No. Everything's fine with my breasts."

"Mind if I watch how you latch her on? I'd like to show you some positions that are less demanding on your back and shoulders."

"She will soon be up for her next feeding anyway. She's hungry like clockwork," Dana says with a smile.

"Good. Where do you breastfeed? I saw a rocking chair in the nursery."

"The night feeding we usually do in bed but I like to sit in the rocking chair during the day."

So we move back into the nursery. I watch how Dana lifts her daughter out of the crib with a loving smile on her face. She cradles the baby in her arms and presses her gently to her chest, then settles into the rocking chair. She holds Hetty with her left arm and opens the top buttons of her pajamas one-handedly with her right, never taking her eyes off the baby's face. She caresses Hetty's cheek to make her part her lips, and when her tiny mouth is wide open, she latches her on. They are already well attuned, and I don't have any doubts that this has been going well. Dana is relaxed and Hetty is sucking contently. 

The hormones are doing their magic. Breastfeeding releases all kinds of hormones which work together to make milk, establish a letdown, and keep up with the supply and demand of a nursing infant. They are also understood to help with the mother-child bonding experience and to produce a warm and typically content emotional state. I notice that Dana, like most women, experiences a very positive mood-boost with breastfeeding, but then, all of a sudden, everything changes. Dana's face goes blank, the elation and bliss on it is gone from one moment to the next as if a gray veil has been draped over her. She hunches her shoulders and her entire body stiffens. The shift has been slight but unmistakable, even Hetty senses something is wrong. She doesn't stop sucking but she starts to fidget in her mother's arm.

I have no explanation for what I am observing, but I'm certain that I can't let it pass. 

I switch the baby monitor off before I ask, "what's the matter, Dana?" I hope I sound less disturbed than I am.

"What do you mean?" 

She avoids my eyes, probably because hers are watery.

"You're tensing up. You're going to have sore neck muscles if you hold her like this."

"If that was only all," she mumbles to herself with no intention to tell me what she means, but I'm not willing to leave her alone with whatever troubles her.

"Dana," I implore. 

I move closer, kneel in front of her to be able to look at her face. Now I see that tears are indeed welling in her eyes although she tries to hide them by turning her head away from me. A wave of compassion for this woman rolls over me although I have no idea what has brought this on. Of course, there's the possibility of it being the usual baby blues, a normal mood swing due to the postpartum drop of hormone levels, but I doubt it. The abrupt change from pure delight and closeness between mother and child to tearfulness and detachment is too extreme. 

"Dana, honey, why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying," she counters stubbornly while a tear is running down her cheek. 

Boy, what a toughie! How can I get her to open up to me?

"The patient-doctor privilege also applies to midwives, you know? Anything you tell me remains in this room." 

I'm glad I had the presence of mind to switch off the baby monitor. Fox would have flown up the stairs already, had he noticed any of Dana's current distress.

She sniffs. 

"I'm all ears."

Now she snuffles as her nose is already running. She struggles so hard to keep her composure, my heart aches. 'Let go,' I want to tell her, 'lay your sorrow on me'. Instead of talking, Dana bites her lower lip as if to seal her mouth so that not a single word slips out unintentionally. I feel like shaking it out of her when it's Hetty who finally cracks her mother's armor. The satisfied grunt the baby emits when she's done, unlatching herself from Dana's breast and blinking at her, breaks the dam. 

Dana's chin trembles and a moment later she bursts into tears. Her shoulders are shaking so violently, I almost fear she could drop Hetty. The little bean is bewildered by the situation and starts crying herself, so I take her from Dana and rock her gently until she recomposes herself. Fortunately, nursing has wearied her, so she quickly falls asleep in my arms and I put her in her crib to be able to comfort her mother. When I turn away from the baby, Dana is still sitting in the rocking chair, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her robe.

"Jesus, Dana, what's the matter?" I put my hands on her thighs when I kneel in front of her again. "Come on, let it out."

She sniffs once again, then sighs. 

"Is it because of your son? Are you reminded of William when you breastfeed?"

Instead of an answer, I get an aghast look. 

"Fox told me about him after you had fallen asleep when labor had stopped. He needed to get off his chest that he wasn't at your side when you gave birth to him, I suppose."

"How much did he tell you?" Dana whispers breathlessly.

"Not much. That he wouldn't leave you because he'd missed his first child come to life and wouldn't miss the birth of his second come what may. He told me you lost him, but not how."

Dana listens with her eyes closed. The crying has ceased, but she's on edge. Her voice trembles when she speaks.

"We already had this. Once upon a time. Mulder and I. We had a baby. A beautiful boy. And I thought...I thought..." 

The rest of the sentence is swallowed by a hiccup.

"What did you think?" I ask to nudge her on. I don't want her to stop now that she's brought up the courage to talk to me.

"I thought we would live happily ever after. But I was mistaken. Terribly mistaken." 

Her voice is raw as sandpaper.

"And you're afraid of history repeating itself," I conclude.

It's all so clear to me all of a sudden. Dana loves Hetty but she's afraid to love her too much. Her subconscious tries to protect her against the possible loss should something happen to her daughter. It pushes Dana to distance herself whenever the love she feels for the little creature threatens to become too strong. Like when you pull your hand back from the fire when it gets too hot to prevent getting burned. It's a self-preservation mechanism, nothing else. A devastating one.

"Have you told Fox?"

"Oh no, I can't!"

"You have to, Dana. He deserves to know."

"He deserves to enjoy his fatherhood. He missed being a father for many, many years, missed it terribly. And now he is head over heels in love with his little princess, I won't cloud his bliss only because I can't handle my emotions."

I'm both delighted and shocked by her words as they speak of her love and devotion for Fox for one, but also of her weak feeling of self-worth. It's breaking my heart to picture her suffering in silence, putting a brave, happy face to the world around her. She deserves to enjoy her parenthood to this beautiful girl just like Fox.

"Dana," I grab her shoulders when I speak to her, "you've got to talk to him. He wouldn't want you to torture yourself like this for him. Of that, I'm absolutely sure, although I've only known him for a short time. And you know what? The moment is perfect for it right now. Hetty is fed and asleep, I'm here to take over in case you need more time when she wakes up, and you're just in the mood to open up to him."

"How do you know?"

"Because you don't want to hurt like this over and over. There is the same amount of happiness and love in your eyes when you look at her as there is in Fox's; that is, until your inner self tells you you mustn't be this happy. You have no control over this mechanism and it will make you more miserable the longer it goes. One day, you might unlearn how to be happy, and then what? It may ruin everything."

She takes a moment to weigh my words. To process them, analyze them, and give them a meaning. I fear the rational woman in her will prevail over the emotional, and when I see her coming to a decision, I hold my breath until she whispers a weak 'okay'. 

When she rises from the rocking chair, I hold it in place to make it easier for her to get out of it; I don't want anything, not the slightest obstacle, to throw her off the track. I even nudge her forward a little with my hand on her back like I did with my boy on his first day of school when he was anxious to enter the classroom. 

I hear her taking the steps downstairs, they're creaking, and for a moment I'm tempted to settle in the rocking chair and close my eyes. I'm tired and drained. But then I feel I have to make sure things are going in the right direction with them and I step out of the nursery into the upstairs hallway to be able to observe what's happening in the living room. Not out of a sick wish to pry into the privacy of these people, only out of concern for them. I have come to like Dana and Fox dearly. Their history has touched my heart and being their labor nurse and midwife, I somehow feel responsible for them.

"Hey," I hear Fox say when Dana reaches the bottom of the stairs. 

"Hey," she replies weakly.

"Have you been cleared by Miss Rose to leave your confinement?" he asks and I have to smile because of what he's decided to call me.

"Yes, uh...she sent me down here."

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

Instead of answering his question, Dana asks one herself - "Mulder, can we talk?" - and I mentally high-five her for she's taken the first step, and the first is always the most difficult.

"Sure, Scully. Are you going to tell me what's wrong with you?"

He's noticed. Of course, he has. 

"What makes you think something's wrong with me?"

"The way you're turned into yourself sometimes when you hold Hetty."

"Mmm."

"Scully?"

When there's no response coming from her, he steps closer and cups her face with one hand.

"Talk to me," he says gently.

Still, she can't bring herself to open up to him. He's so patient with her, he has to know this about her, that she needs her time until she's ready to confide in someone.

"Dana."

I've never heard him call her by her first name before, but it seems to do the trick.

"We've been here, Mulder," she whispers. "We've already been together like this before. You and me and William. It was all I ever wanted."

"I know." 

"I had you and I had a wonderful baby boy. When we brought him home and kissed..." she hiccups a heartbreaking sob, "I was so happy, Mulder. I thought this was it, this was to be my piece of happiness. I thought we'd finally expelled the darkness from our lives. But far from it. First I lost you, then I lost William, and the world was darker than ever. I can't go through this again, I simply can't."

"You don't have to, Scully," Fox says but isn’t heard, Dana continues undeterred.

"I can't lose her. I can't lose a third child. It'd kill me."

I'm confused. I thought Hetty was their second child. A third pregnancy wasn't mentioned anywhere in Dana's medical records and I really don't know what to make of it.

"You won't lose her, Scully, I promise."

"How can you say that? How do you know?"

"Because I won't let it happen."

"It happened before. Twice. And you couldn't prevent it."

"We found Emily too late, Scully, there was nothing we could do to save her."

Dana is in tears now, her voice brittle when she speaks. 

"Emily. My girl. My poor, beautiful little girl." 

Emily? Do they have a daughter named Emily? A daughter they couldn't save? Save from what? Does that mean she is also dead? Why didn't Fox mention her when he was pouring his heart out to me at the hospital? 

My contemplations are interrupted by a deep sigh, this time from Fox. 

"And William...well, it was the mistake of my life to part from the two of you. I should have either stayed in DC or taken you with me. We've always been stronger as a team than apart, Scully, and that was what we should've done. We should've stayed together. Maybe we would've made it if...if we had stayed together." 

"God, Mulder," Dana aspirates, hardly audible, "I'm so scared for her. If I lose her too-"

"Shhhh," Fox cuts her short, stepping closer. He bends down to meet his tiny partner, tilts his head and brings his lips to Dana's. 

Jesus, this must be the sweetest, most gentle kiss I've ever seen. His one hand goes to the back of her head, where he buries it in her hair, his other encircles her waist and pulls her closer; very subtly, just a little bit. Dana hardly moves, she lets herself get kissed by him and I'm relieved to see that she allows herself to be weak in his arms, gifting herself the feeling of his strength surrounding her. Fox wraps his love around her, and part of his gift is that he isn't expecting much of a response. He gives without expecting anything in return, that's selfless love.

After a moment, he pulls back, just enough to look into her eyes and his gaze, oh boy, there's so much raw emotion in this man's eyes. I know I am intruding, that I'm not meant to see this, but I simply can't avert my eyes. I'm too intrigued by this display of utter devotion and connection between two people. 

Fox lets go of Dana's waist and hair and cradles her face with both palms, so tenderly that I ask myself if she feels anything at all. She does obviously because she practically melts into him when he kisses her again. This time she reciprocates and the smacking sounds tell me unmistakably that this time their tongues are involved. I will exit from my observation post if things heat up and they get more passionate, but they both break the kiss and gaze at each other for a moment. No words are spoken but they definitely talk to each other, in a language only they understand. Their faces approach each other again but not to engage in another kiss, they lean their foreheads against one another and close their eyes. I hear them sigh in unison. It's the most intimate gesture. 

Dana has relaxed completely by now. Her shoulders, which were tensed up when she nursed Hetty, have fallen to where they belong and her arms encircle Fox's torso loosely. He has managed to take all her worries away, at least for this moment. She will probably need more than this single conversation to fight all her demons, but it's a start and I was right to push her to confide in him. I mentally pat myself on the shoulder. I am a good nurse.

Unexpectedly, I feel a tap on my shoulder. Jackson is standing right next to me with Hetty sleeping peacefully in his arms.

“She woke up and was a bit fidgety,” he whispers to me. “And she's used to her daddy's face showing up as soon as she starts whimpering, so I thought I show her mine before she could get upset.” With a nod directed downstairs he asks, “what's going on down there?” 

I don't want to betray my promise to Dana that I would keep our conversation confidential, so I stay vague. 

“Dana needed to get something off her chest and I told her to seize the opportunity now that I'm here to look after Hetty if she woke up, but...well, now I see you did a much better job than I did.” 

He grins at me somewhat proudly. 

“Is it about the baby? Is she worried something might happen to her?” he asks.

How does he know? I can't imagine Dana talking to him about her fears for Hetty. Is Jackson just extraordinarily sensitive or does he have insider knowledge?

"It was my fault we lost William, not yours," we hear Fox say to Dana downstairs. He's totally focused on her, oblivious to the fact that anyone is within earshot. "I can't turn back the clock and fix my mistake, but I swear to God, I won't make the same mistake twice, Scully. I won't let anybody, or anything, take Hetty away from us. We lost William, we won't lose Hetty." 

Jackson turns around heading toward the stairs. He's still on his way down, taking tentative steps with the baby in his arms, when he says, "well, you have me back now." 

Now this leaves me in complete confusion, a thousand questions shooting through my head. 

What does he mean by saying he's back? Back from where? And who is back? William or Jackson? Or both? But where is the other boy then? Were there two of them? Two brothers, twins even? 

My brain is a complete mess while I try to make sense of what the teenager said. I try to fit it into what I have learned over the past days about Dana and Fox and their history together. And then a strange idea manifests itself slowly in my head.

Is it possible that he is...? That Jackson is...? No, not possible, absolutely not! 

Or is it? 

Is he...William? Is Jackson William? William, their son? 

It would explain the physical resemblance between Dana and him, but is it really possible that he is their son? Didn't Fox say William was dead? I rack my brain to remember what his exact words were and the longer I think about it, the more I realize that he never used the word 'dead'. He told me they had lost him. Lost doesn't necessarily mean he died, I suddenly understand. But still, it's just unbelievable that Jackson and William are one and the same person.

I grab the banister to steady myself. Had I been catapulted into the plot of a mystery show when Dana and Fox stepped into my delivery room a few days ago? This is all so disconcerting, but also intriguing. Of course, now I have to know what Jackson is to them, nephew or son or whatever the family relation is between them.

Dana and Fox have resolved their embrace and look at the boy approaching them with a great deal of affection but with none of the bafflement I am experiencing. Dana even snickers. 

"Jackson, did you change her onesie? It's a bit large, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah, well, she'd spit up and I thought I could give you guys a break and just go ahead and try to put her in some new, dry clothes. I had no idea getting four tiny limbs through their respective holes of a onesie was so difficult. When I was finally done I realized the thing was a bit large, but honestly, I didn't feel like doing it again. So I just left it like that." 

"It's fine. She looks totally content, I'm sure she doesn't mind the oversize." 

Dana beams at them, both of them, the lanky teenager as well as the tiny baby in his arms. The bliss is back in her eyes, there's no mistaking she loves dearly what she sees. 

"What did you mean by saying we have you back?" Fox asks cautiously. "Are you going to stay with us?"

"If it's okay with you," Jackson answers, lowering his eyes to the bundle in his arms.

"If it's okay with us?" Dana parrots, unbelieving. "Of course it's okay! We'd love to have you here with us."

"I could give you a hand around the house and help to protect her," the boy offers. 

It strikes me that everybody in this house is talking about protection all the time, even the kid.

"That's not your responsibility, Jackson, but ours," Fox says and Dana adds, "parents are meant to protect their children. That's where we failed you."

I prick my ears when I hear the word 'parents'. Is Dana's remark a hint that they are indeed Jackson's parents? 

"You haven't failed, Dana. What you did, protected me, at least for a couple years. And now we're reunited and together we can protect her. She's my sister, right? Isn't that what big brothers do? Protect their little sisters?"

Dana and Fox exchange a meaningful look, both clearly touched by Jackson's statement.

"You're right, Jackson, that's what big brothers do," Fox affirms. "Scully has a big brother who is wary like a watchdog. He tried everything to protect her from me. As you might have noticed, he failed miserably.” 

He emits a bitter chuckle. Now, it seems it's Fox's turn for a gray veil to come over him, but at least he doesn't try to shut down, instead he speaks in a voice of long-scabbed over pain, but pained nonetheless. 

“Well, he isn't the only one who sucked at that, and I'm not talking about you, Jackson." 

I don't know where his self-recrimination comes from, in what way he failed and who, but Dana does. She grabs Fox's wrist and squeezes it gently. 

"Mulder," she breathes, "you know how much I hate it when you call yourself a sucker when it comes to what happened to Samantha. You didn't fail her, you were twelve, for heaven's sake." 

Dana's words and her sympathetic gaze at him have an effect on Fox. They lift the veil off his eyes, they look back at her at her gratefully.

"I won't suck," Jackson assures, "I have...abilities." 

Fox acknowledges this statement with a throaty groan.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, Mulder. I can control them, I really can, but at that particular moment, I had to be drastic. They were too many, and they were reckless. They would've killed you to get to me."

Fox only nods his assent, his face somewhat contorted. The two of them are obviously sharing an unpleasant memory Dana also isn't in the know of because she asks, "what are you talking about?"

"You don't want to know, Scully. Let's just say Jackson has some extraordinary powers apart from the ones you've already experienced yourself."

Whatever that means, they keep it at that. The more these people speak, the more confused I become. At least one mystery has been solved: Jackson is Hetty's brother, so he is Fox and Dana's son. But is he also William? And if he is, how has it come about that they lost him? And why did he change his name to Jackson? So many questions center around this family, I can't quite believe it. I have never met people like them before.

"So, Jackson, if you're going to stay with us, are we..." Dana hesitates self-consciously, and I wonder what's going to come, "...are we a...a family then?"

Jackson only shrugs and huffs a non-committal 'guess so'.

His reaction might have been taciturn, but it weighs heavily and it makes Dana suck in her breath.

"What? Isn't that what you wanted for me? A family? People, who care for me?"

"Of course. I just wasn't sure you wanted us to be those people."

"I believed what you said in the morgue, Dana. That I was given up out of love. I guess I always knew. That's why I always wanted to meet my birth parents some day. The moment just wasn't perfect when you showed up at our house. That's why I put on that...uhm...that act."

The word 'morgue' rings in my ears for a few seconds, but then it clicks. Suddenly, all the puzzle pieces I have gathered over the past two days fall in the right places and make a complete picture: Jackson was born to Dana and Fox as William, and for some reason, they thought he would grow up safer with other people, so they gave him up for adoption. That was how they lost him. His adoptive parents named him Jackson, and now that he was alone because they had been shot, he reunited with his birth parents. 

Definitely TV show material. Although, I have to say, if this really were a mystery show, the writers would have to be scolded for taking it to the absurd, because, seriously, how could anyone but these two strong, smart and totally unselfish parents raise their son any more safely?

They all gather in a hug, a family hug. Dana's knees almost give way when Jackson puts his arm around her, securing the baby safely against his chest with the other. Fox kisses the crown of Dana's head, encircling them all with his long arms. Happiness is written all over his face but also a strong determination to protect his loved ones. 

Now I really feel like an intruder. I gather my things from the nursery and tiptoe down the stairs to slip silently out the door. I want to give them time to enjoy their newly found optimism in quiet, sooner or later Hetty will make herself the center of attention again. I have almost made it, but then the last step creaks loudly and three heads turn around to stare at me as if they have forgotten I am still here. I whisper an embarrassed 'sorry', putting together the words to explain why I am still there, but Fox already dissolves the hug and comes over to me.

"Miss Rose," he exclaims joyfully, "I still owe you one of my coffee specialties!"

A few minutes later, we are all sitting in the living room around the wooden coffee table. Dana and Fox sit on the love seat nestled against each other. His arm is stretched out on the sofa's backrest and he has more or less tucked her in under it. They really fit perfectly together, not only personality-wise also physically. They are so different but complement each other in exactly the right places.

Jackson has settled in a leather chair. He's still holding Hetty in his arms who's sleeping contently. I've been shown to a comfortable wing chair which is so huge I almost sink into it. Fox prepared a perfect latte macchiato for me and a double espresso for himself. Dana is having a cup of tea and Jackson a can of soda. Everyone is at ease and I almost feel like I am among friends. I'm surprised by how close I have grown to these people in a matter of days. Usually, I keep a professional distance from my patients and their families. 

We talk about this and that, I tell them a bit about my son, which is nice. I haven't spoken this much of him in a long time. After a while, Dana leans over to Fox and whispers something to him. Their eyes connect for a moment, then he nods and they smile at each other. Their heads turn and they look at me, still smiling.

It's Dana who speaks. "Rose, we'd like to ask you something."

"Yes?" 

I don't know what to expect, maybe an intimate question like when they are allowed to resume sexual activities, although I'm quite sure Dana knows they have to wait at least another five to six weeks, plus it wouldn't be a topic to discuss in front of their teenage son. I have no idea what their intentions could be, what they have in mind.

"Would you like to be Hetty's godmother?"

My heart skips a beat. Never in a thousand years would I have expected that.

"You don't have to answer right away," Fox hurries to say, "think about it. We would be honored if you chose to assume this role. Scully is tied to the Catholic church and wants Hetty to be baptized sometime within the next six months probably."

"Roughly," Dana confirms. "Please don't feel obliged, Rose, it was just an idea. We've only known each other for a few days but I have the feeling you feel connected to Hetty in a special way. If you could imagine accompanying our daughter a fair bit of the road of her growing up, we would very much like you to become her godmother."

I don't know what to say. I've never been offered god-parenthood for any of the babies I delivered. I'm speechless. Dana is right, I feel deeply connected to Hetty, but also to the two of them, even to Jackson whom I have just met an hour before. I am immensely flattered by the offer and don't have to think about it.

"The honor is all mine," I assure them, "I would love to be Hetty's godmother. You're a wonderful family, all four of you." I turn my head and look at Jackson. "I can't tell you how flattered I am."

"Great, it's settled then," Dana says, clapping on her thighs with her open palms while rising off the couch. "How about a glass of champagne to celebrate?"

"Excuse me, Scully? You breastfeed, you can't have alcohol!"

"Just a tiny sip, Mulder. It will be out of my system before the next feeding."

"Rose..." Fox looks at me, begging for me to support his stance, but she's right.

"She can have a small glass, Fox, it won't harm. Depending on the mother's body weight, the alcohol leaves the breast milk within 2 to 3 hours after it's consumed," I explain.

"Have you looked at her stature? She's the tiniest, slimmest person I know. She's practically a feather!"

"A feather? Not lately," Dana comments dryly.

"Come on, Scully. Even at the end of your pregnancy with your protruding belly, you were lean everywhere else, agile, and in better shape than all of the younger women in the Lamaze class we attended."

Dana's cheeks blush a bit because of the compliment. "If you're that worried, I'm just going to moisten my lips, okay Mulder?" she offers with a slightly amused smile at her overprotective husband.

These two are really an enchanting couple, always understanding the other's needs and complying with them. 

So a bottle of champagne is opened and three glasses are filled. Jackson sticks to the soda he pours into one of the crystal flutes. We clink.

"To the most beautiful baby in the world," Fox chirps dreamily.

"Mulderrrr..." Dana and Jackson sigh in unison, both rolling their eyes, the family resemblance between these two more than obvious.

"What?"

Dana answers, "you're absolutely hopeless. I would've never thought you would be so enraptured by your offspring." 

He counters, “I'm enraptured by your offspring, Scully. I once told you, you'd be popping out Uber Scullys someday, and I turned out to be right.”

Dana shakes her head at him. She's trying to pretend she's mad at him, but her eyes sparkle too much and she can't really hide the smile that is breaking through. I decide to come to Fox's defense anyway. 

"Leave him, Dana. His infinite devotion to Hetty will help him through puberty when she will be a little priss." 

I take another sip of champagne and feel elated that I will be able to see this girl - future priss or not - grow up and accompany her and her wonderful family over the coming years.

I'm a good and very happy nurse right now.


End file.
